Chapter 116
Chapter 116:
It was black velvet. Floor-length. High neck at the front, but the back was completely open, plunging all the way to the base of the spine. Severe. Dangerous.
“That one,” Effie said.
“Good choice p>
Isolde lifted the dress from the mannequin.
Just then, Grayson walked in. He had followed Belle.
“What is going on?” he demanded.
“Just shopping, darling,” Belle called from the fitting room.
Grayson looked at Effie. “Are you behaving p>
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Effie looked back at him steadily. “My name isn’t Effie Lancaster anymore p>
Grayson frowned. “What p>
“I want to be Effie Carson,” she said. “Like Mommy p>
Grayson’s face darkened. He turned to Isolde. “You put this in her head p>
“She has her own head, Grayson. Unlike some people p>
Isolde walked toward the fitting room. “I’m paying for this myself. Don’t worry about the bill p>
“You don’t have any money,” Grayson scoffed.
“I have plenty,” Isolde said, drawing the curtain closed. “My consulting work is quite lucrative p>
Isolde stepped out of the fitting room.
The black dress fit like a second skin. The velvet absorbed the light, making her silhouette look impossibly slender and stark. The high neck emphasized the elegance of her throat, while the open back exposed her skin — pale, smooth, and bare. Across her back and shoulder, a near-invisible medical film covered the still-healing wounds from the drone, its matte finish catching the light differently than her skin. She could feel its taut pull with every breath, a sharp reminder of the pain she was concealing.
The black brace on her arm looked like a deliberate accessory. A gauntlet.
Grayson stopped checking his phone. He stared. His mouth opened slightly.
He had never seen her like this. He was accustomed to Isolde in soft pinks and modest cuts. The woman before him looked like a queen who had just executed her enemies.
“It’s… too much,” Grayson said, his voice thick.
“It’s perfect,” Isolde said, looking in the mirror.
Belle stepped out of the fitting room in the blue dress. It was beautiful, but on her it looked pedestrian. She didn’t have the posture. She didn’t have the gravity.
Belle saw Grayson staring at Isolde. Jealousy flared in her eyes like a struck match.
“It’s a bit slutty, isn’t it?” Belle said, adjusting her strap. “For a family event p>
Isolde turned slowly. “Slutty? Coming from the woman sleeping with a married man p>
“We are partners!” Belle cried.
“Partners in crime, perhaps.” Isolde walked closer.
She noticed something.
Belle had pinned her hair up. On her left shoulder blade, just visible beneath the strap of the blue dress, was a smudge of beige. Concealer. It was rubbing off against the fabric.
Underneath the makeup, there was ink.
Isolde narrowed her eyes. “You missed a spot p>
“What?” Belle reached for her shoulder.
“The makeup,” Isolde said. “Covering your… birthmark p>
Belle looked panicked. “Yes. A birthmark. It’s ugly p>
Grayson shifted his weight. He looked nervous.